Chapter Sixteen #2
Kamari cradled her side as she sat in Desmond’s office, her mind circling on all the ways she could make her parents leave. She’d never wished for an attack on the wall before, but now she wouldn’t mind if a herd of bloodsuckers showed up.
One of Desmond’s journals sat open on the desk.
Every page was marked. Half sentences, drawings, languages she couldn’t decipher.
She flipped the page again and it was more of the same.
Words written atop one another, leaving very little that were actually legible.
Angry lines dug deep into the paper, black swirls drawn in the corners and menacing eyes that made her shudder.
In the weeks before Desmond left, he had grown more and more distant from her. A truth she hadn’t let herself accept until now. Maybe he was losing his mind. Maybe he was as mad as the council and Raffe said.
But it didn’t take away from the truth. That he was her husband and he loved her and she loved him. He was hers and he would never just leave her.
Except, he did.
She wiped her eyes and flipped to the back of the journal. The last page was dissimilar to the rest. It was written neatly, the penmanship consistent and steady.
It was a letter. A letter to Kamari. Like a rabbit scurrying from prey, her heart bounced in her chest. Her eyes shot to the date. Four months ago. She racked her brain. Four months ago she was visiting her family in Novaria. It was the first time she and Desmond had been apart since their wedding.
She took a deep breath, sent a silent prayer for strength to Celestria, and read the letter.
My sweet, Kamari~
I feel a bit ridiculous writing to you only days after you left and surely if you were here, you’d laugh at the pathetic state of me. I am a king and yet I am a fool. I should have come with you to Novaria. I couldn’t leave the Citadel, they would never let me and for that I’m sorry.
I’m sorry I’m not a stronger man for you. A better husband. I promise to try. I promise I’ll find a way.
Nevertheless, my love, I long for you in a way I’ve never felt.
So fiercely I’m beginning to scare myself.
Scared of the things I might do just to see you.
Touch you.
Taste you.
The clock is ticking and the sun is setting but time is not moving fast enough.
Never fast enough when we are apart.
How is it that I ever breathed, ever lived, without you by my side? It has not yet been a year of you and yet it feels like a lifetime.
I miss you. I love you.
Until I see you, I’ll dream of you.
Always,
Desmond
She read the letter three times. She studied the cadence of his lettering.
Pictured him sitting at his desk in his study, beating himself up for not joining her.
She was angry at the time. Disappointed that he chose not to travel with her to see her birthplace.
See her parents and sister. It all seemed frivolous now.
She knew Desmond had a difficult time leaving the Citadel, let alone Vargah.
But still, she remembered the disappointment she felt as the ship flew north.
The questioning glances her parents gave her when she arrived alone.
She reread the letter one last time.
“I couldn’t leave the Citadel, they would never let me…” The passage was crossed out with a thick black line and she couldn’t help but wonder, who?
Kamari’s fingers shook as she closed the journal.
He’d written to her while she was away but never sent the letter.
Maybe it was shame that held him back, maybe it was something outside of his control.
Tears burned her cheeks, a vice around her heart tightening until the ache spread across her chest.
She focused on her breathing, inhaling the lingering scent of tobacco and leather before yanking open the single drawer in the desk. She was missing something.
Surely there was something.
She pushed aside a few loose papers, tossed out a handful of pens.
Nothing.
There was nothing else here. She sighed and reclined in her chair.
Helpless.
She felt helpless.
But beneath the helplessness, she felt angry. Blood rushed to her cheeks, a storm brewing in her chest, ripping through her veins and taking hold of her heart. He left me, she thought. He left me and now I’m backed into a corner. Alone.
Kamari was never one to show her anger. Not like Aesira who forced it out during training or her father who let it flow through his voice.
Kamari was best at swallowing it down or pretending it didn’t exist. It was not queen-like to be angry.
It was not lady-like to show any emotion other than complete contentment and appreciation.
But there was no one here and she was sick and tired of pretending to be complacent when the truth was, she was burning up from the inside out. She was alone and she was angry and it spilled out of her like a jar of honey, sticky and thick.
She threw the lamp from Desmond’s desk, shattering the porcelain shade as it hit the ground. Pushed the papers off the sides. Took the few pencils he had tucked into a jar and broke each one in half.
He left me.
He left me.
She fisted the clay mug, then threw it against the wall, its broken pieces scattering about the floor. Nev would hear that and soon she’d come rushing in. She’d see the mess Kamari had become.
Breathing heavy, hair unkempt, she stood over the desk, looking down at it like it was an unwanted spider, then she kicked it, as hard as she could.
She hissed through gritted teeth, pain piercing her side where her stitches were too tight.
Then she kicked it again before slamming her fists onto the top.
She hit it again and again until her hands felt bruised, a few splits opening on her knuckles. Her side ached, a pool of warmth soaking through her silk robe.
Sweating and exhausted, she slumped back in Desmond’s chair. A laugh rose in her throat as she glanced around the horrendous mess she’d made. Papers and broken pencils and porcelain littered the floor.
Boots sounded outside but she made no move to pick anything up, including herself.
She laughed again, at the absurdity of her outburst. What would the council think of their queen if they saw her this way?
What would her father think? The thought of her father only made her laugh harder.
He would be ashamed. Embarrassed. Disappointed that the entirety of her youth was spent learning to be a disciple of Celestria and a doting wife and here she was, just as mad as the king.
She pulled herself up from the chair before Nev could find her, but a glint inside the now broken drawer caught her eye.
Bending down so she was eye level, the drawer hung loose from its hinges and there, under what she thought was the bottom of the drawer, sat another journal.